Wpis 2025-05-02, 21:19

***

Flesh out of flesh.
Forget-me-nots rising out of the dewy underbrush of the forest.
The melancholy weeping of my soul tuning itself to the pulse of the world.
Only you are there,
out of so many.
Still among the four walls of my humble abode,
screening a movie of my life, seeing my true colours.
The willow shaken by a breathy breeze,
hanging over a garbage can,
reflecting all the world's suffering.
Bring me the piano and teach me to play.
I play only nonsense pieces for flute and mandoline.
I have buried my ankles in a sandpit,
reverting to my childhood years when everything was so simple.
Your voice is a music to my ears, even though or for the very fact that you use it so rarely.
You bring me fresh handfuls of flowers, striding in through the balony, proud and full of praise.